


Different

by u_blep_me_i_bap_u



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Heterochromia, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Sad, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 12:32:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18620707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/u_blep_me_i_bap_u/pseuds/u_blep_me_i_bap_u
Summary: I hate myself. Tears rolled down my face as I pull the brush in long strokes. I tugged hard at the knots as the golden tumbleweeds stuck to the bristles. I ran my hand along my scalp as my locks flowed out of my face. I watched the tears flow from my mismatched eyes.





	Different

I hate myself. Tears rolled down my face as I pull the brush in long strokes. I tugged hard at the knots as the golden tumbleweeds stuck to the bristles. I ran my hand along my scalp as my locks flowed out of my face. I watched the tears flow from my mismatched eyes.  
What did I do to deserve this? I weakly tossed the brush on my dresser and pulled on a hoodie large enough to cover my snow-white hands and neck. I grabbed my bag, tugging the ebony hood over my eyes and staring at my beat up sneakers as I silently walked out of my home, careful to not wake up anyone else. 

Leaves crunched beneath my feet as the cool autumn winds nipped at my nose. Lampposts stood idly, staring at me with their cold, empty eyes. Leaves fluttered around my feet like butterflies as I felt a sharp shove from behind me. I tripped, my face hitting the concrete. The leaves swirled around me as I felt my cheek become cold and sticky.  
“Pale!” I closed my eyes gently, hearing the cracking of the delicate spines of leaves get further and further away from me. I slowly pulled myself to my knees, gently touching my searing face. When I pulled my fingers away, I could see a sickly red liquid. Blood. Sighing, I fumbled to my feet, quietly sauntering among the corpses of leaves to make up for the lost time.  
When I turned the corner, in front of me stood a sea of toffee-coloured skin and backpacks mulling like zombies in front of a neatly-kept building. I tried to stay away from the horde, hiding in plain sight in a birch tree’s dying breaths. The leaves quivered in the icy air as I curled my hands into fists to keep them warm. The bell screeched in agony as the floodgates to hell were opened, allowing the same face to enter the building over, and over and over again. I quietly scampered into the heavy double doors as the slammed behind me, sealing my fate.  
I passed the office and saw small groups talking and laughing, then their conversations fizzling out as I walked by. I stared down at my black sneakers that were covered in mud. God, I’m so ugly. I saw the ‘popular’ girls all in their perfectly pressed uniforms with their boyfriends, gossiping and laughing. I pulled my hood further over my face to hide the discolourations in my eyes. I could feel gazes burning into the side of my head. My heart sank as my hands began to sweat. I could hear the click of soles on linoleum. I moved my legs faster and whipped around a corner, sliding into the girls’ bathroom and into a cubicle.  
I wait a moment, holding my breath, then gently push the door open. I exhale quietly as I slide out and glide down the halls, trying to keep my form as small as possible. I stopped at my locker and looked up at it. The blue paint had thick, messy black markings that read out ‘VAMPIRE’ and ‘FATTY’. I felt the tears well in my eyes and I spun the lock. With a little click, it opened and I yanked the chunk of metal off of its hook and flung open the door. I grabbed a textbook, sliding it into my backpack and a scribbler, which I gently tucked under my arm. I gingerly closed my locker and snapped the lock, starting off to my first class.

I quietly sat, tapping my pen as I listened to the man in front of me. He had perfect structure and a symmetrical face, coffee-coloured hair and a matching beard.  
“What’s the answer to 6c?” he asked, folding his arms, scanning the classroom. No hands were raised. Suddenly, I realized his eyes were locked with mine. I looked down at my sheet of lined paper to see that there were charcoal-coloured marks crossing it out. I felt my stomach sink and my head begin to spin as I looked back up at him.  
“Well?” my teacher demanded, scowling at me.  
“I-I don't know...” I said softly, sinking into my seat.  
“You do realize this class is for students that are going to university, right?” he spat, pressing his knuckles into the wooden desk in front of him, veins sticking popping out of his arms and trailing up into his rolled-up sleeves. I sunk down further and pulled my shoulders closer to my neck.  
“Yes,” I whisper, keeping my head down in shame.

As I sat there, moving my pencil in tiny strokes as I sat in the peace of art class. As I focused, the scratching of graphite on the paper and the chatter of voices was drowned out by nothingness. Passion exploded on my paper like a bullet to the head. I kept the strokes even and light, then pressed down on the paper with strength, making heavy dark marks. I smiled as I put down the pencil and shook out my hand and pain seared through it. Pushing through it, I smudged the lighter marks to create shadow and depth on the paper.  
Satisfied, I stood up. With the masterpiece gently cradled in my hands, I strode over to a desk with a woman just as perfect as everyone else. Her small fit form was gently perched behind her desk on a chestnut-coloured leather chair that matched her hair. Her eyes slowly trailed up to me, glaring daggers into my soul.  
“I’ve finished,” I say quietly, handing her the paper. I watched as her chocolate eyes scanned the paper, the corners of her lips were pulled downwards as her sleek eyebrows were furrowed.  
“It needs work,” she said gently, as she looked at me and smiled, disgust burning in her eyes. “Maybe try using a subject you can draw. Or maybe try a real form of art.” Tears welled in my eyes as I bit my lip. The taste of cool metal filled my mouth as I swallow hard.  
“R-right,” I stammer, feeling my throat tighten as I take the drawing of the small flesh-covered creature and run my finger along the edge of the paper looking at its lips curled back to reveal sharp fangs. My chest heaves gently as I try to hold my breath as if that would stop the tears from falling down my face. I stare at its odd little snout and oversized ears, it’s wings spread out like an angel.  
I begin to fumble back over to my seat when a loud blaring rings in my ears, startling me, even though I’d heard that noise hundreds of times. I stuffed my book and pencils in my bag as fast as I could, hurrying out of the room as fast as my stocky legs would take me.  
I shoved through a sea of bodies and gasped for breath to get away from the over usage of expensive colognes and perfumes. I whipped around a corner, slamming into someone. I winced in pain as I touched my forehead. It stung, but I continued to push past the crowd.  
Once I had got there, I yanked open the bland black door that leads to the girl’s washroom. I fumbled into the furthest stall from the door and locked it, pulling off my hoodie and throwing my face in my hands. My chest heaved as I gasped for air, hot, sticky tears rolled down my face as I leaned against the tiled wall. I opened my eyes and tried to blink so I could see the red marks, all uniformly horizontal on my wrist. I gasped for air as I shakily hiccuped and more tears flowed down my face like a waterfall. I thrust my hand out to my jacket and dug around in the pocket for a small wad of toilet paper. I carefully unravelled it, pulling out a small silver blade.  
Nobody wants me here. My chest heaves harder as I gently press it into my wrist, wincing in pain. I looked down to see a bead of red liquid forming at one end and I smiled. I felt the emptiness in my chest threatening to swallow my heart whole as I pressed harder, feeling guilt and regret begin to boil in my stomach.  
I smiled as I watched the bead become a bar, then trickle down the sides of my wrist. I clenched my teeth tightly as I pulled the blade out, slamming my head against the wall to stop myself from letting out either a scream or sob.  
I’m worthless.

The bell rang and I stood up, shoving the remainder of my sandwich into my backpack. Tugging it on, I walked out and shook my arms so my oversized sleeves would cover my hands. I looked in the mirror to see my ocean blue eye and piercing green one, red and puffy from tears. I walked through the sluggish ocean of perfect beach tan as I wandered down endless hallways, my arm aching as it moved. My eyes were stiff as I stumbled into the uneven flow into my LA class. I quietly flopped onto my seat and put my face in my hands, sighing weakly.  
“Hey ghost girl,” a voice laughed, followed by a barrage of others.  
“Chunky.”  
“Goldie.”  
“Mix.” I balled my hands into fists and felt searing pain shoot up my arm. I exhaled gently and pulled my golden hair in front of my face, hiding my features that were contorted in pain.  
“Good afternoon,” a petite woman with flawless olive coloured skin announced. “We will be continuing to read our novel studies today, so get to work.” She sat down on a midnight leather chair that was as dark as her luxurious eyelashes and neatly pressed blazer. I sighed as I pulled out a small grey book from my backpack, cracking it open and scanning the pages, trying to focus, but heard some laughter and talking.  
“Fish girl’s still got those eyes,” one of them laughed, pointing at me.  
“The pukey green seaweed and icy ocean blue? I’m pretty sure it was made in a lab!” The group began howling in laughter as I bit my lip, trying to not get angry or upset.  
“And look at her thighs! What a butterball,” another spat. I tried to pull my legs up so they wouldn’t look so big, but my efforts didn’t work tremendously. I pulled my legs up on my chair and crossed them, tugging my hoodie over them and hiding behind my novel in shame. 

The bell shrieked as I stuffed the few papers and book back into my bag, following the crowd of students as I made my way down the hall to my final and favourite class, Classical Literature. I pushed past a few people and heard some shouts and snarls coming in my direction. I dashed toward the front of the class and perched myself on one of the school’s plastic blue chairs and waited for the flood of students to get seated.  
My eyes scanned the room as I watched the last student sit down, then the cleanly shaved man rose to his feet and walked to the front of the class. He placed his hands in his pockets and began to speak, but all I could think about was reading Shakespeare. I could always get lost in his books or his plays, making me feel like being different was okay and normal. In that world, I felt okay and protected. My eyes snapped up as soon as he clapped his hands.  
“Alright. Today we will be acting out the battle between Macduff and Macbeth. Get into partners, then come and get a sword for each of you,” he motioned to the stand of ‘swords’, which were poles of bamboo tailored to look like rapiers. “The only rules are you must use the original dialogue and keep the scene the same,” he gently picked up a ‘blade’ and swung it downwards. “Use proper technique too!” I sat excitedly as I glanced around, watching people slowly partner up. The existing pairs began to get their supplies and file out of the room to prepare their skit, while I sat, wide-eyed for someone to approach me.  
“Hey Mix,” said one of the guys from my Language Arts class. I sighed profoundly as he continued to speak. “I’m not even gonna bother to ask if you got a partner, because I know you don’t. I also know you do good in this class. So you're my partner now.” He laughed and folded his arms, his face contorted into a devilish grin.  
We walked to the front of the class and collected novels and swords, then walked out into the hallway. As we were walking, my partner began to hum and held his weapon out in front of him.  
“We’ll work on the script later, right now I wanna fight!” he spun toward me and got into a low stance. “I’ll be Macbeth.” I smile, knowing well that this boy has no idea how this fight is supposed to end.  
I slowly turned to face him, then felt a sharp pain in my side. I yelped in pain as I flailed, I weakly hit his side, trying to regain my balance. With his second swing, I quickly parried and slammed my blade into his side.  
“Watch it Chunky!” he spat as he swiped again. I ducked and kicked his feet out from under him and he landed on his rear, yelping. Without time to react, he jabbed my knee as hard as he could, causing me to wail and collapse, crawling over to him and putting him in a headlock. He thrashed and growled, digging his nails into my hoodie, causing me to make the hold tighter. He slowly stopped and just sat there, as if he were a mannequin on display. As I pushed him away, he coughed and sputtered.  
“Alright,” he wheezed, “You win.”

I walked out of the heavy metal doors, signalizing my freedom for the rest of the day. I pushed some golden locks out of my face as I scanned the parking lot, seeing a familiar black truck parked near the front. I sauntered over to the passenger door and tugged on the silver handle, hearing a clunk as it opened. In front of me, sat an extremely tall, handsome man. His chestnut hair was messily strewn about and his skin had a gentle tan. As he turned to me, piercing hazel eyes met mine as his face lit up like a Christmas tree.  
“Hi baby,” he cooed. “Aww, you’re wearing my hoodie.” He leaned over and softly pulled me by the chin closer to him, kissing me on the forehead.


End file.
